


Lollipops and Candycanes

by WomanInWhite



Category: Supernatural
Genre: AU, Hallucifer, Work In Progress
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-02-04
Updated: 2014-02-04
Packaged: 2018-01-11 04:22:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,423
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1168639
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WomanInWhite/pseuds/WomanInWhite
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sam wakes up in a psychiatric ward where his brother tells him he’s not the supernatural hunter he thought he was, but that he is, in fact, a regular lawyer in Sioux Falls with an abnormal psychological disorder. His brother on both sides tells him that either world is real, Lucifer tells him he’s in another one entirely, and he feels like he’s on a sinking raft in the middle of the ocean. Choosing to accept either reality will result in struggle either way (and leave Sam feeling like he’s let down at least one Dean), it’s just a matter of choosing which path to take.</p>
<p>Prompted by this Tumblr post:<br/>http://getsammytodisneyland.tumblr.com/post/74014727680/breakingsupernatural-doomslock-supernatural</p>
            </blockquote>





	Lollipops and Candycanes

 

_“Sam!”_

_He caught a glimpse of blonde hair flowing in the water, bright eyes peeking just over the surface at him mischievously. Sam smiled as he turned and shouted, “No! Don’t!”_

_He tried to get away, but he wasn’t quick enough to avoid the spray of cool water that arced like a whip and lashed against his dry, bare skin. He let out a startled yelp as the cold made goosebumps burst all over his body._

_The mirror of the lake’s surface rippled as the young woman emerged from the water, laughing, still splashing. Sam sunk under the water to avoid the spray and swam to catch the woman by the waist to pull her down with him. They resurfaced for air and they both laughed. She was so beautiful, almost glowing with that smile, that warmth that seemed to radiate from her beneath the droplets of cool water that clung to her skin. It was a miracle, to him, that she chose to share that warmth with only him. He couldn’t help but kiss her, he was so in love._

_They lounged together in the shallows, listening to the frogs croak and the crickets chirp, the canopy of trees shading them from the sun, the water lapping gently up at them. Sam wished he hadn’t left the ring in his backpack at their campsite. It was the perfect moment and he didn’t want to spoil it, even for a second. He’d just have to wait for another perfect moment. It seemed that they were never in short supply of those when they were alone together like this._

_They stayed like that for a long time before she pulled away to float lazily away from the shore. Sam watched her for a moment before he stood in the water over her, admiring her face, completely content with her eyes closed. Her hair spread around her head in rippling waves like a halo of golden light. Sam smiled, enjoying the simple, quiet moment._

_Then, as if the sun had eclipsed, they were engulfed in darkness, the water black. The woman’s eyes opened and appeared glassy and empty, her face frozen in distress. She was no longer in her bathing suit, but a white nightdress. And Sam couldn’t seem to move._

_Then the light started to come back, but it wasn’t from the sky. It emerged from behind the woman, flames flickering up and out of the water, burning at the ends of her hair, the tips of her fingers, until it engulfed her completely in destructive light. A scream ripped its way out of Sam’s throat as he cried, “JESS!”_

* * *

 

Sam jolted up in bed only to cry out as a sharp pain in his chest forced him to relax against the pillows again. His heart was still racing from the nightmare, pounding against sore ribs. His whole body hurt as though it was covered in bruises that kept getting prodded at. Even his eyes ached at the glare from the flickering fluorescent lights above him.

He took in his surroundings. The room wasn’t familiar, but a lifetime of being on the road had taught him to expect that. However, this was no motel room.

There wasn’t much in the room expect for the bed he was lying on, a nightstand and a table off to the side, all made of steel. The door beside the table was ajar. On the opposite side of the room was a wide set of windows. Outside, decorative iron bars blocked off the window. Sam couldn’t help but mutter to himself, “At least I won’t get attacked by a ghost.”

“Good one, Sam.”

Sam looked over to the desk where Lucifer had perched himself. The archangel said, “Just when I thought you’d broken your funny bone, too.”

Sam was too tired for this. In fact, he was exhausted. But Lucifer, ever-present in his head, said, “Nuh-uh, buddy boy. We’re keeping this party going all night long.”

From the other side of the door, Sam just barely made out a voice talking. Sam wanted nothing more than to go to sleep, but his instinct to find out where he was and why his brother wasn’t there with him drove him to action. He shifted in his bed, careful not to cause any more pain than he needed to to get up. He slowly made his way closer to the door, every muscle protesting his movement, leaning an arm against the desk as the short trip wiped him of his energy. But from here, he could actually hear what was being said.

“-than I’ve seen in all my years practicing,” a woman said. “Typically people like him cannot explain everything, or their accounts are inconsistent. But he seems to have an answer for everything.”

“Doc, that’s… I know that.” Sam instantly recognized the tired voice as Dean’s. “He’s a freak for research. I wouldn’t be surprised if he wrote a freaking thesis about werewolves. But that doesn’t help me or him.”

“Just remember what I told you about the pain. And you have to let him know you’re going to be there to support him. That’s very important and it could really help his treatment.”

“If you say so,” Dean said. “Thanks, Doc.”

A moment later, the door opened and Dean found Sam where he was still leaning on the table, “Huh, up already? I was hoping maybe you’d get more than two minutes of sleep at a time.” Sam winced as something in his gut cramped up and Dean frowned in concern, “How’re you feeling?”

“Like crap,” Sam grunted out. He made his way back to the bed, rejecting Dean’s arm for help, and sat back to rest, “What happened? Where are we?”

“What do you remember?”

Sam wracked his brain, his memory foggy, “Uh, we’d just taken out a couple of Leviathan at that guy’s antique store. We stopped a few states over on the way to another case. I remember Lucifer kept showing up, keeping me awake. It was driving me insane and I had to get away. I remember leaving the motel and following some train tracks to clear my head. And that’s it.”

Dean nodded, staring absently at the desk, “So, Lucifer’s still running loose up there.”

“Yeah.” Sam waited for something more of an explanation, but when Dean remained fixated on nothing in particular, Sam said, “Hey, Dean. A little help here. I’m kind of foggy on the details. You mind filling me in?”

Dean dragged the chair from the desk over to Sam’s bedside, taking his time to sit on it backwards, his arms resting on the back before he finally brought his eyes up to meet Sam’s, “Running off at night strung out on who knows what wasn’t really a good idea, Sam.”

“Strung out? Was I on something?”

“Doctors showed me a drug test with a couple of positive results. Maybe you were trying to take the edge off or something.” Dean sounded rather indifferent, but Sam could detect the sharp note of worry hidden in his tone. “Anyway, you wound up running into traffic and got yourself hit by a Lexus or some shit.”

“That explains a lot,” Sam groaned, taking short breaths behind his broken ribs.

Dean added, “Doc said some of the pain might just be in your head, though. You know, with Lucifer and all.”

Sam settled more comfortably in his bed, letting his head relax against the steel bedframe, “So, this is a hospital then? I mean, there’s not really a lot of equipment or anything. Desk kinda says this place is long-term.”

Dean nodded again, saying listlessly, “Yeah. It’s a hospital.”

Sam thought Dean was being quiet, much more quiet than his loudmouth brother was, even at the grimmest of times. He asked, “Dean, you’ve barely said anything. You’re not even making fun of me. I heard you talking to some doctor about me. What aren’t you telling me?”

Dean ran a tired hand over his face and said, “It’s a psychiatric hospital.”

“What? Dean, I know Lucifer’s a pretty big deal, but I already told you I know he’s not real. I thought we agreed our line of work doesn’t mesh well with shrinks. Besides, it’s not like they’ve got treatment for whatever’s wrong with me.”

Dean seemed to have barely heard Sam, “It’s not just Lucifer, Sam.”

“Then what?” Sam waited, but Dean only stared at the floor, looking more miserable than he can remember. Sam asked carefully, “Dean, why did you put me in here?”

Dean lifted his eyes again and said more confidently, “Because you need help, Sammy.”

Sam shook his head as much as his pain would allow, “But I’m not insane.”

Dean let out a frustrated huff before saying, “Sam, you think we hunt monsters. You think that we’re friends with an angel, that we saved the world.” Sam struggled to understand, and he was about to reprimand Dean for joking with him when Dean continued, “I got news for you, Sam. We haven’t been to hell and back. We don’t save people. I’m a mechanic, you’re a lawyer. And we are nothing special.”

“How’s this fantasy treating you, Sam?” Lucifer taunted from where he was perched on top of the desk, “Did things just get a little too real for you?”

Sam glanced over at Lucifer. Was this an illusion? Or was the Dean before him not actually Dean? He eyed Dean suspiciously, “Where’s my brother?”

Dean sighed as though he’d been waiting for this, “I _am_ your brother.”

“Then prove it. If you’re real, then you’ll know the drill.” Not that it would make much of a difference. Sam couldn’t put up a fight, and he wasn’t sure he even wanted to. But if he still had the luxury, he’d prefer to see the truth for as long as possible before Lucifer took that away too.

Dean shook his head before going to the desk where a lunch tray sat untouched. He picked up the plastic salt shaker and popped the lid open, pouring a small pile of salt into his palm and bringing it to his lips. He held up his hand to show the salt was gone and made a face at the bitter taste, “Happy? And, here. Look.” He tugged the neck of his shirt to reveal his anti-possession tattoo.

“Okay. Not a demon. Shifter, maybe?”

“It’s a high-security facility. Metal detectors all over the place. Can’t exactly sneak a silver blade in here. Besides, they don’t exist. You’re just gonna have to trust me.”

“Alright, _Dean_.  If it’s you, then don’t screw around. I’m too tired.”

Dean put the salt shaker back and sat in the chair again, saying flatly, “It’s not a joke, Sam. Wouldn’t lie about this.”

He seemed sincere enough. He looked like Dean. He spoke like Dean. He hadn’t yet tried to attack him. And Sam didn’t know who else he could trust. Something had clearly gone terribly wrong and he had to find out what was what. At this point, he was willing to take what he could get.

Sam asked, “Would you clue me in, then, on what’s happening?”

“Sure. What do you want to know?”

“Anything.”

Dean stared at Sam with scrutiny for a moment before his eyes widened, “You don’t remember anything about this life, do you?”

“This… life?” Sam was wholly confused. “I guess I don’t. The only life I know is the one where I’m hunting demons and Leviathan. With you.”

Dean let out a short breath of disbelief, giving a little shake of his head before speaking again, “Sorry, it’s just… You’re not the you I’m used to.”

“Yeah, I could say the same thing.” Sam asked, “How did you know about the salt, then? And Lucifer?”

Dean said, “This isn’t the first time you’ve tuned out. We’ve talked about your… other life quite a bit before.”

“Alright.” Sam felt a little silly to ask, “Who am I supposed to be, then? In this life?”

Dean said, “I told you. You’re a lawyer. A defense attorney. I’m a mechanic. We both live in Sioux Falls.”

Sam asked, “Is Bobby gone here too?”

Dean straightened up in his seat and said softly, “Yeah. Been a few months now.”

Sam nodded, “So it’s safe to assume everyone else is dead too then.”

“You couldn’t be more wrong, actually.” Sam’s heart seemed to swell with a cautious hope as Dean continued, “You seem to have a place in your head for pretty much everybody here. It’s actually kinda nice. Until they end up dead. Or worse.”

“Like who?”

Dean drummed his fingers on the back of his seat for a moment before snapping his fingers and saying, “There’s Jo.”

Sam breathed, “Jo? She’s alive?”

Dean smiled, “Oh yeah. A little more intimidating in dreamland, but not by much. Maybe you’re just scared of her. Might explain the badass way she checks out.”

Sam frowned, “It’s not funny.”

Dean continued bluntly, “Yeah, because that’s what you think happened to her. But Sam, she’s fine. Probably never even blew up a mailbox in her whole life.”

“And Ellen?”

“Alive and kicking. Same goes for Chuck and Ash and Adam.”

Sam marveled for a moment in awe at the lives never lost. Then he looked up at Dean hopefully as he asked quietly, “Jess?”

The instant Dean’s smile faltered, Sam had his answer. Dean said, “I’m sorry, Sammy.”

Sam nodded, knowing he had probably been hoping for a little too much. He’d already mourned her death, so it wasn’t a total shock, but it still hurt nonetheless to know she didn’t survive even in this apparently civilian life. Somehow, he already knew the answer, but he asked anyway, “It was still a fire though, wasn’t it? Like mom?”

“Yeah.” Dean said sadly, “Even in _your_ head, a lot of miracles happen. But they never seem to make it out alive.”

They sat in somber silence for a long while until finally Sam decided to change the topic, “What about you, Dean? I’ve only ever known you as a hunter. It’s kind of weird imagining you living some regular life.”

Dean brightened a little, “Well, like I said, I’m a mechanic. Was in the Marines for a while, too.”

“A Marine? Like dad?”

Dean rolled his eyes, “Yeah, I know, let’s just pretend I never had any daddy issues fresh out of high school. Anyway, I was working at Bobby’s auto shop for a while now. He left the place to both of us, but I’m running it now. Wouldn’t trust you with anything more than changing a tire.”

Sam chuckled, “Yeah, that’s probably a good idea.”

Dean smiled before getting up, giving Sam a clap on the shoulder, and dragging his chair back to the desk, “Well, it’s about time I get outta here. Gotta open up shop.”

“Oh. Okay.”

Dean made his way out but he paused at the door. He turned back around and looked over at Sam, “It was real good seeing you, Sammy. Really, I’m just grateful you’re…” He let out a huff of relief, “You know, this is the first time you’ve been lucid in days. I was worried for a while you were going to check out of the attic. I don’t know what I would’ve…”

This was Dean. Whatever world they were in, hunter or mechanic, monsters or not, this was genuinely, unmistakably Dean. Sam said, weakly, “Dean-“

Dean held up a hand and shook his head, “Just… forget it. I’ll be back after work, alright?”

“See you then.”

Dean gave him one more glance before turning back into the hallway and shutting the door behind him.

 “Big brother turns into a bit of a patsy when you get a boo-boo, doesn’t he?”

Sam ignored Lucifer and shut his eyes. As far as he knew, Cas was still dead and gone. Even still, he prayed, “Cas, anybody… If you can hear me, I could really use some help right now.”

“Well, I can hear you, and I’m telling you now, nobody’s coming to save you. You’re all mine.” Lucifer’s Cheshire grin made itself known even in Sam’s periphery.

Lucifer was still the only angel to answer Sam when minutes later, the door opened again. Sam’s eyes widened, “Professor Visyak?”

“ _Doctor_ Visyak. I take it you weren’t expecting to see me?” She pulled the steel chair out as Dean had and sat cross-legged beside Sam’s bed, resting her arms on the manila folder that lay across her lap, the letters “WIN” in large stickers on the edge.

Sam shook his head, “No. Sorry, but the last time I saw you, you were dead.”

“I suppose I had that coming. I haven’t had an appointment with you in some time.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

Visyak explained, “It’s not unusual for you to think people in this life have died on the other side when they’ve been absent for some time. But we’ll talk about that another time. On this side, I’m your psychiatrist. And right now I want to see exactly how much work we’ve got cut out for us this time around.”

Sam nodded, “Uh, okay. Sure.” He chuckled nervously, “Sorry, this is just… surreal for me.”

“Yep, that’s normal too. You’ve recounted a few rather… strange experiences in the past. Well, more strange than your usual gig. And it’s not the first time you’ve lost touch with this life.”

“So… you’ve made me think this world was real before?”

“Oh, yes. Not easy at all, of course, considering you seem to know what you’re talking about. No matter how far-fetched it seems, you’ve got an explanation for everything that makes you rather hard to convince.”

Sam was starting to feel like some psycho experiment and he didn’t like it at all. But there seemed to be no way of getting out of it. And if this was some twisted illusion of Lucifer’s, sometimes it was easier to play along and get it over with than to resist it. “Alright,” he said. “What do you need from me, then?”

“Tell me what you remember last.”

And so Sam told her the same thing he told Dean. She didn’t bat an eye at the mention of cursed objects, Leviathan, or demons, so she must have been in the loop for some time. It made it easier to bring up why he couldn’t sleep, his latest nightmares. Visyak even knew about Jess, so either she was telling the truth about everything or she was a product of Sam’s mind. Either way, it felt good to get everything off his chest to somebody other than Dean, who probably would have only worried even more about him.

But Doctor Visyak listened to everything calmly and intently, not interrupting with wild psychological analyses, only looking away to jot a note or two into Sam’s file. She took his words seriously, even if deep down she felt not a one was true, and it made Sam feel like less of a patient. He decided she wasn’t the worst shrink he could have gotten.

Once Sam had said everything that needed saying, Visyak asked him, “What do you remember about this life?”

Sam said, “Nothing.”

 

* * *

 

The door swung open and the attached bell rang. A girl, probably not even out of high school yet, said, “Hello?”

Dean emerged from under the hood of the sadly neglected ’85 Chevy Camaro he was working on and wiped his hands on the rag dangling from his belt loop. He said loudly over the AC/DC playing out of an old stereo sitting on a grimy workbench, “Hey, how can I help you?”

The girl nervously stepped into the garage, which Dean kept as neat as he could, but he couldn’t do much about the oil stains on the concrete, and the heavy machinery didn’t make the place any more homey to anybody but himself. She said, “Um, my dad told me to bring the car in for new brakes and an oil change.”

“Make and model?”

“W-what?”

Dean made sure not to roll his eyes as he lamented the state of the youth these days, “What kind of car is it?”

“It’s a red Hyundai Alantra. 2008, I think.”

“Alright, I should be able to get it done before closing time. Come on in to my office and we can get the paper work started.” He led the way and opened the door, letting the girl in first, “Have a seat.”

He sat on the opposite side of the desk and pulled open the loud steel drawer to reach the papers he needed. It was getting easier, he found, to use Bobby’s old office. Except for what was needed to run the place, he didn’t move a thing. A pile of old books that never found a home in Bobby’s house were stacked on a dusty table in the corner. A 9mm Smith & Wesson handgun was in a glass case perched above the window – loaded and within reach in case, as Bobby so casually put it, “anybody tries to pull any funny business.” The desk calendar was still covered in Bobby’s tidy scrawl – Dean never ripped out the sheet that said November, the month Bobby had passed.

Dean clipped a form to a clipboard and handed it and a pen to the girl, “Fill out what you know. Anything else I should be able to find on the registration. Mind if I get the keys?”

The girl gave him her key ring, apparently not at all ashamed of the blue, fuzzy, star that dangled from it, a dopey smile embroidered on one side, a sharp contrast to the callouses and grime all over Dean’s hands. Dean said, “I’ll pull her in and get started. You can wait in here. There’s a coffee machine out front if you want any.”

So he pulled the car in and got to work. It usually worked out great. Working on cars always got his mind off of things, and his employees usually distracted him whenever he couldn’t. But he’d given Harry and Ed the day off (to work on their growing website that’s about to take off, so they said). He’d always been a bit amused by their enthusiastic theories on ghosts. But that was before Sam started having trouble. Even still, he might have preferred that kind of talk over the stuff that was starting to cloud his mind.

There was no denying that losing Bobby had carved out a big part of Dean. It left him feeling hollow, and he always filled it with anger, frustration and worry. But his favorite lately has been alcohol. An old favorite for rainy days, but this was the biggest storm in hurricane season. Dean could only remember two other times in recent memory he’s felt even close to this bad, but he swatted those sorrows away in favor of focusing on this one.

Bobby was the father Dean never found in John, not since before the fire. He’d thought losing his father was bad, but Bobby… he never wanted to anticipate it, but it was worse than he could have expected. And Sam had been his crutch until he could get back on his feet again. Sam went above and beyond.

But almost right after Dean had righted himself, Sam began his quick descent into his current meltdown. He barely slept, and when he did, he woke screaming. So he actively avoided it. They both knew Sam was aware that Lucifer was just in his head, but there were days Sam’s mind would depart to that other universe where angels and demons were fighting for territory and they were caught in the middle of it.

And Dean kept thinking things could change. Sam would be totally fine for months at a time, and Dean would allow himself to hope that maybe, just maybe, that chapter of their lives would be over. But, like Dean had jinxed them, Sam’s mind would act up again. It was the little things that Dean wouldn’t have noticed years before, but that he’s tuned himself recognize in an instant, a signal he would come to dread and use to start counting down the days of Sam’s lucidity before he checked out completely for days or even weeks.

Bobby was always there for the two of them. He helped Sam until he didn’t know how to anymore. Once they decided Sam’s care was best left to professionals, Bobby’s focus rested on Dean, who was struggling not only with helplessly watching his brother fade in and out, but his own demons as well. Sure, Bobby’s was rough about it, but he was kinder when Dean had reached breaking point after breaking point. And it was what Dean needed.

And he needed it now.

But Bobby was gone, and Dean knew it wasn’t going to be easy without him. But he’d hoped Sam would be okay for at least a little while longer. Dean figured he should have expected it. Doctor Visyak had told him stress and grief could trigger another episode. And besides, it wasn’t as if luck had ever been on their side. The only bone the universe seemed to throw their way was Bobby, and they couldn’t even keep him.

And now Dean was on the verge of losing Sam, too. His episodes had been longer and more intense lately. It seemed most days he was ready for a ‘hunt’, not another day at the office. Dean was losing Sam to this other world, he could feel it coming and it terrified him that there was nothing he could do to stop it if Sam finally wound up going down that road.

“Shit,” Dean muttered from under the Alantra as the drain plug slipped from his fingers and slippery black oil spilled down his arm and over his neck and chest. “Goddamn it.” He slid over to make room for the drain pan he dragged over to catch the oil. He reached for the plug, but it kept escaping his grasp, at first from the oil, but then he was shaking too much. He finally caught hold of it and held it tight in his fist, the metal digging into his palm as he bit back a sob.

Who was he kidding? No matter what Dean did, everybody disappeared from his life. Whether they wanted to or not didn’t matter, it hurt just the same. But Sam… the last time Sam walked out on him he’d done a lot of stupid things. But if Sam goes somewhere he can’t come back from… Dean can’t even begin to imagine a life where Sam is alive but not quite the same, a ghost of his former self, locked up in some psych facility for the rest of his life. It’s a void he doesn’t even want to attempt to explore.

Dean heard the last drops of oil drip into the pan and he plugged up the drain. He wiped his face dry with his cleaner hand and got to work on replacing the filter, feeling himself coming back to his senses.

They’d worked too hard, him and Bobby, for Dean to let Sam slip out of his grasp now. And there was no way he was giving up on him either. His brother was no lost cause to be discarded, left behind as evidence of another one of Dean’s failures. Not this time, Dean thought fiercely. Yeah, it was going to be harder without Bobby, but nothing was going to make him quit.

He finished up his work quickly and drove the car out to the lot. When he went back to the office, the girl was still sitting there, this time tapping away at her phone. She looked up at him when he entered and let out a tiny gasp before her brows knitted together, a mixture of anxiety and mild disgust. She said quietly, pointing to her own face, “You’ve got some, uh… grease. All over.”

Dean hated making girls uncomfortable (he never wanted to be identified as a ‘creep’), so despite his mood, he offered her one of his sweeter smiles, “Oh. I hadn’t noticed. It’s an occupational hazard, I guess.”

His grin must have shone through all of the muck, because the girl seemed to relax a little bit. She must not be used to seeing a blue-collar worker earning his keep, Dean thought, not if her father was sending her to get something as easy as an oil change and brakes done. But business is business.

He had the girl on the road by closing time, so he locked up and walked the short distance across the adjacent salvage yard to Bobby’s old house. It was still under construction after a fire took out half of the place not long before Bobby had passed. It was a cruel turn of events, Dean thought. Fire seemed to touch the most precious things in his and Sam’s lives. Luckily nobody had gotten hurt.

After Bobby died, Dean was like a man possessed. If he wasn’t working on a car, he was working on that charred house. They’d already blocked off and insulated a livable section of the house for the winter season. But the rest of the place was Dean’s domain. He couldn’t remember how much time he spent tearing down walls and smashing heat-warped windows. If he was being honest with himself, it was all a blur. By the time the fervor in him cooled down with the winter months, Dean had been surprised to find he’d rebuilt the skeletons of 3 rooms.

But it’s what he needed. Instead of a punching bag (or some poor sap at a bar), he had a busted house. Instead of hard liquor, he only had enough beer to keep his thirst quenched while he worked. If he’d let himself fall apart completely, he didn’t know how he’d be handling things now. Not that he was handling them very well at all, but he could imagine things being much worse.

For now, at least, Dean was planning on doing things right. With Sam on the line, he had to. With that in mind, he made his way up the worn down stairs he and his brother spent years chasing each other on to clean up before going back to the hospital, hoping that this time, he’ll catch him.

 

* * *

 

“So, let me get this straight. You’re a demon hunter who thinks he’s a lawyer in some happy-go-lucky world? No, wait, it’s the other way isn’t it?” Lucifer sat on the window sill, arms crossed, “Gosh, it sure is hard keeping up with all of this ‘alternate universe’ nonsense, isn’t it? Must be _exhausting_.”

Sam rolled to his side to avoid the angel’s self-satisfied smirk. But Lucifer just appeared before him again, “You do realize how crazy this is, right? And I mean that in the most literal sense.”

Sam turned to his other side and shut his eyes. He could hear Lucifer groan dramatically, “Oh, come on. Don’t be such a spoilsport. We’re bunk buddies, remember? Quit giving me the cold shoulder.”

It wasn’t until a loud whistle pierced the air that Sam gave any sign he had heard Lucifer, who had conjured up an athletic whistle to blow. Sam laid there, hands over his ears as Lucifer blew in short, shrill tones, or impossibly long notes. He even tried (a poor attempt) to whistle out the tune of some of Billboard’s top 100.

Finally, even Lucifer grew impatient. He uttered from behind Sam’s back, “Fine. You wanna sleep so bad? Go ahead. Don’t let the bed bugs bite.”

Suddenly, Sam startled awake.

He was in the same room as before. It was almost as if he’d just blinked himself in and out of consciousness. He certainly didn’t feel any more rested and his body was aching for it.

Lucifer was sat upon the desk, entertaining himself with a piece of string. He looked up at Sam, “Hey there, sleeping beauty. Rough night?”

Sam simply sighed. He couldn’t get annoyed. He couldn’t argue. He just didn’t have the energy.

“Not so great being topside again, is it?” Lucifer had made a cat’s cradle between his fingers and said, “I’m just sayin’. Back when you had no soul, you never had to sleep.”

Just then, the door opened and Dean came in. Lucifer mocked, “Ah, Mr.Helpless!” He said to Dean, “Pull up a six-pack, buddy.”

Dean gave no sign that he had heard Lucifer, instead staring at Sam, concerned, “How are you feeling?”

Sam let out a weak chuckle, “Maybe you should cancel my UFC fight.”

Lucifer said, “Yeah. Keep that sense of humor, Sam. It’ll get you through this.”

Dean sat at the foot of the bed and said, “Sam, I’m gonna find you help.”

Sam let out a soft scoff. Lucifer peered at him, “Now, that sounded a little cynical.”

And maybe he was. After all, the other place, that other life, was a lie. This Dean clearly has no faith in the system because he’s sure he can shake some supernatural miracle out of the woodwork somewhere. But it didn’t change anything.  He was beyond saving, and he’d accepted that.

Sam said, “I don’t think it’s out there, Dean.”

“We don’t know that,” Dean countered.

“We know better than most.” He didn’t have the strength to feel bad about Dean’s obvious disappointment, “It’s all snake oil. The last faith healer we hooked up with had a reaper on a leash, remember?”

Dean got up with a sigh, “Yeah… Sam, I remember.” He couldn’t have this conversation face to face. It was hard enough that his brother was apparently okay with checking into Hotel California. But he couldn’t just leave Sam like this until he went completely out of his mind.

From behind him, Sam said, “I’m just saying…”

Dean rounded back on him, “What? That you don’t want my help?”

Sam sighed, tired, “No, I’m just saying… don’t do this to yourself.”

Dean said, “Sam, if I don’t find something-“

“Then I’ll die,” Sam finished.

Lucifer said, as though he were caught off-guard by a scene in a soap opera, “Oh, you’re upsetting me.”

Sam continued, “Dean, we knew this was coming. When you put my soul back.”

“No,” Dean said softly, “No.”

“Cas warned you about all the crap that it would-“

“Screw Cas!” Dean grew more heated as he nearly shouted, “Quit being Dali-freakin’-Yoda about this, okay? Get pissed!”

Sam let out a big breath before muttering, “I’m too tired.”

The fight in Dean visibly disappeared. It was replaced instead with helplessness, with a hint of fear.

Sam said calmly, “This is what happens when you throw a soul into Lucifer’s dog bowl. And you think there’s just gonna be some cure out there?”

Dean stared at his little brother for a moment, looking for any inkling of doubt, of hope, anything that he could use to turn this train around. But when he found nothing but the twisted form of zen Sam had adopted, he merely nodded, understanding he wasn’t going to change his mind.

Lucifer whispered with false sincerity, “Oh, you guys are having a moment!”

Without another word, Dean left.

It wasn’t long before the door opened again, and there stood Dean.

Sam asked, “Back so soon?”

“What? You miss me?” Dean smiled and took the desk chair right from under Lucifer’s feet. The angel didn’t say a word, merely rolling his eyes before propping his heels on the edge of the desk.

As Dean sat beside him, Sam said, “Just wondering if you’d found a miracle already.”

Dean froze for a moment before his face fell and he said harshly, “Sammy, you better be joking, and if you are, it’s not fucking funny.”

“What? Dean, you just said-“

“What? That I was gonna make it all better? I gave up on that, Sam! I know I can’t do shit about any of this, so I’d appreciate it if you didn’t rub it in my face!”

“Dean, I’m… I’m sorry. It’s just…” Sam couldn’t understand. Not one hour before Dean was here talking about finding some cure. And when Dean was driven, he worked quickly, even if his search results were a little less than reputable. So why was he getting so offended?

Lucifer murmured from the corner, almost encouragingly, “Still haven’t got it yet, Sam? Need a little help figuring out which Dean you’re talking to?” Sam shut his eyes at the realization. Lucifer chuckled at Dean, “That’s what you get for taking my things, you grease monkey!”

Sam said again, “I’m sorry, Dean. I thought…” He felt a little ridiculous to say it out loud, “I thought you were somebody else.”

Dean shook his head and said bitterly, “Ah. The other ‘me’. That explains it.”

“Yeah. I just saw him a little while ago,” Sam admitted.

“What did he have to say?”

“Said he was gonna get me help.” Sam added, “Our kind of help.”

“So he ditched you here?”

Sam was a little taken aback, “It’s not like he won’t be back.”

Dean nodded, “Yeah, yeah.” It was one of those moments that Dean hated the most. He despised the fact that Sam had some other brother exactly like him trying to drag him into his world too. Not only was he angry about it, he was scared. Sure, it was great the other Dean was out of the picture for a while. It gives him more time with Sam. But if the other Dean comes back, and comes back with some ‘cure’ that’s enough to convince Sam to stay on the other side… Dean was absolutely terrified his other self was going to lead Sam into a cage in his mind and lock the door.

But he didn’t ever let Sam know any of this. Even on Sam’s better days, he tried to keep his hate for the other Dean quiet. Because like it or not, Sam loved him like a brother too. And on days like this, where he was convinced he belonged to the other world, Dean was afraid he might trust the other one more. Making his anger known would only end up pushing Sam father away from him and closer to the other guy.

Finally, Dean straightened up in his chair and said, “Just forget about it. Listen, I brought you something.” He reached into his jacket and pulled out a beat-up, leather-bound notebook.

Sam’s eyes widened, “Dad’s journal?”

“Nope. Yours.”

“Mine?”

“Yep.”

Sam looked up at Dean with a hint of suspicion, “Then why would you have it?”

“Cause I get to read your diary, baby brother.”

Sam made a weak attempt to snatch the book from Dean’s had, but Dean only held it just out of reach. Sam said, “C’mon. What’s even written in there? What if I don’t want you reading it?”

“See, we already took care of that.” Dean flipped open the journal to a seemingly random page near the beginning with ease, clearly familiar with everything inside of it. He turned the book towards Sam with a finger pressed into a page, “You’ll notice, in your own chicken-scratch, that you’ve issued me a free pass. And your shrink, too.”

Sam squinted at the page which had scrawled on it:

 

> _**It’s easier, I think, to keep track of all of this. And it’s only fair** _
> 
> _**to let Dean and Dr.Visyak in on this. After all, it seems they’ve got a much** _
> 
> _**better handle on all of this than I do. Best way for them to help me** _
> 
> _**is to give them full disclosure, right? Anyway, I owe them that much after all I’ve** _

 

Dean closed the journal and tossed it on Sam’s lap, “Here you go. Typically the rule is you write down as much as you can remember. Your process, or whatever. Doc likes to know how the engine’s running. Plus, you told me once before it helps put everything in its place.”

Sam opened the book, seeing page after page filled with his handwriting. There were notes scrawled all over the margins, scraps of paper and post-its jammed into the binding, overstuffing it. He didn’t remember any of it, and it was only familiar because it looked like his father’s journal. But this one was definitely, apparently his.

Dean said, “You should read it from the beginning. Makes more sense that way. Well, so you’ve told me.”

Sam stared at the journal, this wealth of knowledge compiled himself without his awareness. He wasn’t sure whether or not to trust it, but regardless, it would probably answer a lot of questions. He said, “Thank you.”

“No problem. It’s yours anyway.” Dean looked over the desk, not seeing Lucifer, only the lunch tray that still sat there. The sandwich on it had been dropped on it after what looked like only one bite. Dean asked, “You’re not eating?”

Sam followed Dean’s line of sight and his brow wrinkled at the memory of Lucifer’s gross illusions. He muttered, “It wasn’t very appetizing.”

Dean got up and picked up the sandwich, bringing it to his nose for a sniff, his nostrils flaring angrily in response, “Ugh. Baloney is the worst. Tell you what, I’ll bring you a breakfast burrito before work tomorrow. And I’ll pick something up for us to eat after I get out. Maybe pizza or a grilled cheese. And some candy bars. Those are always good.”

A small smile manage to form on Sam’s face at his big brother, same as always, even when he wasn’t. “Thanks.”

“I better head out if I’m gonna get up early enough for breakfast.”

“Alright. See you tomorrow.”

Dean nodded and was about to head out the door when he stopped, “Hey, Sammy.”

“Yeah?”

Dean stared at the ground before meeting Sam’s eyes again, “You know I didn’t mean what I said. I did give up on me getting you better. I know there’s nothing I can do anymore. But… I’m never backing out on you, alright? I know you, you… you can beat this.”

Sam didn’t answer. What could he even say? No, Dean, I can’t? Dean, I don’t know if I want to? Dean, there’s another you that’s just as upset about all of this and I don’t want to leave him behind either, but chance are the both of you are gonna lose me anyway?

And Dean, he knew the battle going on in Sam’s head because he’s witnessed it before. He cleared his throat and said, “Just, try and get some sleep, alright?” And he was out the door.

In his rush to his car, he nearly ran into Doctor Visyak, “Oh, sorry, Doc.”

“It’s alright.” She was about to go on her way but instead grabbed Dean’s shoulder to keep him from running to the parking lot, “Dean, are you alright?”

Dean shrugged her hand off his arm and he knew he wasn’t going to get past Doctor Visyak with his eyes burning, “I’m just tired of this.”

“Do you want to come to my office and talk about it?”

He grimaced and said, “I’ll take a rain check,” before escaping to his car and taking off down the winding back roads home where he knew a bottle of whiskey was waiting for him.

 

 

* * *

 

 

> _**May 28 th, 2009** _
> 
> __
> 
> _**I screwed up. Big time. And I don’t even know where to begin making things right again. Maybe it’s too late.** _
> 
> _**Dean gave me this journal because… well I’m clearly messed up in the head. I mean, every time I try to do the right thing, I do the exact opposite without even realizing. Maybe I’m blind to it. Maybe there’s some essential component missing in me. Something’s not right, that much I do know. I guess it’s better to record everything. See what went wrong so that maybe next time, I won’t destroy everything around me.** _
> 
> _**If I get a next time.** _
> 
> _**What went wrong this time was Ruby.** _
> 
> _**I think I knew, deep down, that she was bad news. But I let myself trust her. I think I was almost in love with her. I guess it just goes to show how far I’ve fallen.** _
> 
> _**I want to blame her for everything. I really do. Dean does. He says I wasn’t in my right mind. I’m still not. I remember things one way, but Dean’s telling me a whole other story. I shouldn’t have trusted Ruby, I should have trusted Dean the whole time, I know. He was right. But he’s telling me things I just can’t wrap my head around. That I never cracked Lucifer’s cage. That I’d never been tainted with demon blood. That we’d never been hunters. But I never knew anything else.** _
> 
> _**But after failing to trust him before, it’s hard not to now. It’s Dean, for sure. Not the same one, but he’s no monster, no illusion as far as I can tell. And the things he’s telling me… they’re starting to sound familiar. I’m remembering it, and I know it’s not just Dean talking, it’s my own actual memories.** _
> 
> _**So, here’s what I remember.** _
> 
> _**He told me I’m studying at Stanford again. Or, I was, until everything caught up with me. It started when Dean got deployed overseas and went MIA. I was convinced he was dead, or would be very soon. And Ruby was there for me the whole time. Even before, I didn’t want to get mixed up with her. I never really had much of a reason to. Dean helped me get on my feet after Jess died, and I was trying to focus on classes, to make our efforts worth it.** _
> 
> _**But I thought Dean was gone. Over the past few years we’d gotten so close and it hurt so bad to think he was dead. And I truly thought he was.** _
> 
> _**And Ruby was there. She lived on the same floor and shared some classes with me. She wasn’t exactly friendly, but she hung around me a lot. Eventually, she started studying with me, and she even took me out to bars every now and then to get me out of the library. She would make fun of me for it, and it reminded me of Dean. So, without thinking, I turned to her when I thought I’d lost him.** _
> 
> _**There was no taking the pain away. But she distracted me from it, in a lot of ways. Finally, she said she had something even better, and I was broken enough to believe her. So I took the drugs when she offered them. I took them until I couldn’t go without them. And it worked, for a while.** _
> 
> _**But then Dean came back.  Something had changed in the both of us. Dean still won’t tell me what he’s seen, and he’s keeping his secrets, but I hear him shouting in the middle of the night. I see how much he’s drinking. I see how miserable it is and it’s like a part of him got left behind.** _
> 
> _**But he was still my brother. And he saw right off the bat how bad Ruby was. He didn’t know what was up, but he told me to keep my distance. And I wish I had listened.** _
> 
> _**But by that point, I’d already been fooled by Ruby into thinking that I needed her. She was there when Dean wasn’t, and I guess I convinced myself she was a good alternative. I don’t know how I got through that school year. Maybe Ruby felt something for me after all. I’ll never know. It doesn’t really matter anyway.** _
> 
> _**Dean came to visit last week. He caught me using, and he knew Ruby got me on that path. He dragged me back to Bobby’s to sober up and I’d never felt so sick in my whole life. But I’d told Ruby everything. It wasn’t hard for her to come find me. And she brought what I wanted.** _
> 
> _**I was still sick, so she helped me to her car while Bobby and Dean were working to bring me back to Stanford. I was lying in the backseat, they told me, when the accident happened. The front seats kept me from flying out of the car. Ruby wasn’t so lucky.** _
> 
> _**The doctors said the accident saved my life. Quitting cold turkey and shooting up again would’ve killed me if they hadn’t caught it in time.** _
> 
> _**Dean was grateful. At least, he seemed to be under a thick layer of pure disappointment. He didn’t even get angry. I almost wish he did. But, no, he just told me to forget about. Told me to focus on getting better, getting back on track. But how can I?** _
> 
> _**My dead ex-girlfriend, or whatever Ruby was to me, had destroyed everything. She’d convinced me to believe, for months, that I wasn’t doing anything wrong. I was just doing what I needed to do. My conscience got flipped upside down. I hate what she did to me. But worse than that, I feel so… betrayed. I still feel… something for her, and I’m glad she’s out of my life but I’m still torn up about losing her and I don’t even know what to think anymore.** _
> 
> _**As if that wasn’t enough, I’ve now got some parallel universe in my head where things got a million times worse and I can’t tell which one is the true story. I mean, this one is pretty horrible as it is, but if the events of the other world are real, then I’ve started the freaking apocalypse and then collapsed into my own head instead of dealing with the consequences of my actions.** _
> 
> _**Either way, I can’t handle how Dean is treating this, in either world. I know I’ve lost his trust, I fucking shattered it. I deserve that, and more. But I don’t deserve his patience. Yet he keeps bottling everything up, and I know he’s blaming himself when none of this is his fault. He’s already been through Hell, literally or figuratively I don’t even know anymore, but here I am putting him through it again. And it’s killing me to watch him hitting the bottle even harder every day. I’d rather he beat the shit out of me. It’d probably do some good for the both of us.** _
> 
> _**Anyway, that’s what I remember. And now I have no idea what to do with that.** _
> 
>  
> 
>  
> 
>  


End file.
